


Roll For Hotness

by Yuilhan



Series: ONSH [4]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: 'Are they hot?', An all-lady party, Artemis and Alto are cousins, Blacksmith Richard Armitage, Blacksmith Thorin, F/F, F/M, Gen, Half of the first quest was completed until we crashed, ONSH does D&D, Our GM already hates us, We have no idea what we're doing, seven times removed (of course), shameless Vine reference
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 07:10:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15836307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuilhan/pseuds/Yuilhan
Summary: “Is he hot?” The women chimed.“Yes, he’s hot.”Alto rubbed her hands together excitedly. “We’ll take this one.”“You haven’t even heard about quest number three yet,” the Barkeep grumbled.“Fine.”“I’ve been hearing some suspicious noises from the cellar here-““And that,” Alto nodded sagely, “Is how we all end up getting trapped in a sex dungeon.”_______________Or, ONSH does D&D!





	Roll For Hotness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tidd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tidd/gifts).



**ROLL FOR HOTNESS**

* * *

 

“We’re just passing through,” said Alto, not sating the Barkeeper’s curiosity whatsoever. He held within his gnarled hands three individual sheets of parchment. The Half-Elf tapped a finger cutely against her chin, blinking in what she hoped was a charming, innocent manner.

The Barkeep eyed the three novice adventurers sat in his tavern with scrutiny. There had been another two, but like the helpful souls they tried – and failed – to present themselves as, the Tiefling and the Wood Elf in this ragtag little group had kindly escorted one of the Barkeep’s patrons to their home. The Barkeeper knew that this particular patron took up residency within the village walls, so why their escort journey was taking so long he had no idea.

“The five of you seemed like you can handle yourselves, but might I ask how you all met?” The Barkeep pressed them for information. He just had to know, he couldn’t give them to just _anybody._

The Barkeep began to scratch at the scar on his face – a silvery line that bisected his right eye and contrasted greatly to his weather-worn skin.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Alto began. “Where did you get that scar?”

All scars told stories; some read like maps, others as ballads, and some… were pathetically received.

The Barkeep grinned, and the three novice adventurers recoiled in horror at the smell of his breath. “Papercut.”

Alto tittered nervously in return, her attention becoming very invested in the freshly squeezed fruit juice in her tankard.

Suddenly the tavern door slammed open, clattering against the wall and rebounding straight back into its original position. The Wood Elf and the Tiefling had returned; the former’s expression was sheepish as she gently pushed the door open once more and allowed her demonic companion through the threshold first.

“Well, that’s that fuck dealt with,” the Wood Elf – Artemis – announced. The Tiefling who had also helped to escort the patron home – their name, Lucifer, known only through whispers passed through the shadows and the occasional bonfire– nodded. A glint of glee flittered through their snake-like eyes.

The pair sat themselves at the table, the three already situated (Alto, a Human, and a Dragonborn) each shuffling further along to make space for the returnees to their party.

The Barkeeper coughed. “As I was saying, you five seem like you can handle yourselves for amateurs. How did this party form?”

Artemis rose one eyebrow quizzically. The Barkeeper mustn’t have been so blind to see how his patron had been harassing the newest member of this band of adventurers, the lone Human of the group…

_“Just out of curiosity, how do you write your name?” The patron leant against the bar, invading the Human’s space._

_“Like this,” the Human replied, sounding out each letter._

_“Shit head.” The patron laughed cruelly. “Your name is ‘Shit head’? Seriously?”_

_“It’s pronounced ‘Shithëad’, actually-“_

_“Shit head, ha ha!” The patron banged his fist against the counter, sloshing his ale carelessly over Shithëad’s lap. The Human woman flinched; not able to scramble away in time due to how she was sitting close to the bar on an uncomfortable wooden stool. “Hey everyone, get a load of this, her name is-“_

_“Oi.”_

_The patron stilled._

_From the corner, a lone Wood Elf stood. Their tablemate, another being with Elven ancestry, ran their fingers idly over the hilt of a sheathed rapier. It was more of a comforting gesture than one of ill-intent – you could never be too careful these days._

_Across the way, a Tiefling kicked at a chair by their feet; the sound of it scraping across the stone floor made everyone start. The Tiefling gathered themselves slowly to their feet, towering far above anyone else present in the humble little tavern._

_Closer to the human, but making no attempt to rise threateningly, sat a Dragonborn. The grasped their tankard – one crafted from steel so that their clawed hands did not pierce through as easily – raising it for a quick sip while they maintained eye contact with the now quivering patron. The tankard was placed back on the table with a thud. Then, the Dragonborn smiled – teeth like razors. Smoke billowed from between their canines and from their scaled nostrils._

_“What do you want, Elf?” The patron inquired, not as confident as he had first been._

_“For you to leave her alone and naff off for the night,” the Wood Elf replied._

_“Oh?” The patron flung his arms wide, his tankard’s contents sloshing once more over Shithëad as she tried to make a hasty retreat. “What if I don’t want to leave? Are you going to make me, Elf?”_

_The Wood Elf began to grind her teeth together in frustration. She had only just received some joyous news – the Half-Elf sat adjacent to her was in fact a long lost seventh cousin, whom she had chanced upon at the outskirts of this very village. It seemed a shame to mar their first meeting with violence, but at the same time she wouldn’t see a fellow woman be treated in that manner and not do anything about it._

_The Tiefling’s tinkling laughter made them all pause. “I’ll gladly help you escort this… gent… home,” she told the Wood Elf._

_The pair, smiling to one another, weaved their way through the tavern’s tables and seats. They each grabbed hold of the patron’s arms and began to drag him to the exit._

_“This guy’s leathered,” the Wood Elf flung over her shoulder to the Barkeep. “We’ll make sure he’ll get home.”_

_‘We never said he’d get home safely though,’ the Tiefling amended in her thoughts._

* * *

The Dragonborn, Dany, puffed long, curling trails of smoke from her nose. She shrugged at the Barkeep’s incredulous expression. “We ladies have to stick together.”

“Right,” the Barkeep stated, feeling sweat begin to bead on his forehead. For novice group, they had some scary party members. “This first quest I offer is from the Captain of the Guard, Rose–”

“Are they hot?”

The Barkeep blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I said,” Artemis drawled, “’Are they hot?’”

“What does that even – no, _no_ they’re not hot, okay? We’re talking a two out of ten. Anyway, she’s offering fifteen gold for every Goblin you kill on the job.”[1]

“Next quest please,” Artemis sulked.

“But you’ve not even-“ the Barkeep protested.

“ _Next quest please,”_ Artemis returned, a hint of steel in her tone.

The Barkeep, holding three sheets of parchment (each of which listed a separate beginner’s quest, shuffled his papers in exasperation. “Quest number two is from the Blacksmith of this town-“

“Is he hot?” The women chimed.

“Yes, he’s hot.”

Alto rubbed her hands together excitedly. “We’ll take this one.”

“You haven’t even heard about quest number three yet,” the Barkeep grumbled.

“ _Fine._ ”

“I’ve been hearing some suspicious noises from the cellar here-“

“And that,” Alto nodded sagely, “Is how we all end up getting trapped in a sex dungeon.”

“What? No!” The Barkeep bellowed. “Thieves! Thieves have been stealing my shit, okay? Find them, kill them, keep whatever you can find that they’ve stolen or ruined. I’ll pay you well enough.”

(“I still say it’s a sex dungeon,” Alto whispered, the others nodding along suspiciously.)

The five females muttered amongst themselves while the Barkeeper watched on in dismay. How had something so simple as helping out a new party turned into such a faff? (‘Maybe,’ he thought to himself, ‘Maybe I should give this tavern business up. Go on holiday, or something?’)

He shook his head. “Have you lot decided yet?”

“We’ll take quest two,” Shithëad said. “But if it turns out you lied to us about Mister Nine, we’ll take your job instead.”

And that was how five individual ladies, from all walks of life and races, formed their party. Alto, Artemis, Dany, Lucifer, and Shithëad, despite not knowing one another for very long, agreed that they would head to the Blacksmith’s forge the next morning.

The front door to the Blacksmith’s home, adjoined to the forge, splintered into pieces as a body was flung through it. Whomever it was that had been hurled landed with a pained thud on the muddied street.

“Oh fuck,” Artemis muttered, watching as the Blacksmith emerged from the shattered doorway with a huge, what she might call, ‘fuck-off’ mace in one hand.

The Blacksmith’s body was sweat-slicked from the heat of the forge; he had tanned, glistening muscles, one very impressive beard, and a tiny bit of soot across the bridge of his nose… the sight was maddening. [2]

“Take me to the anvil,” said Alto, wiping a hint of drool from the corner of her lips.  

Each of the five adventurers were finding it very difficult to remain on task all of a sudden.

“Try to steal from me again,” said the Blacksmith in a low, smoky tone. He bent, plucking a small dagger from underneath the thief’s tunic with his free hand – the item alone not worth pinching. The other hand – holding the mace with practiced ease – allowed its cargo to drop surreptitiously to the ground, right beside the quivering thief’s head. _“And I’ll fucking smash your head in.”_

“Hoo boy,” Dany crowed, smoke billowing from her nostrils.

The thief scrambled to their feet, darting away and looking over his shoulder at the Blacksmith. The thief really should have been looking where he was running, for he collided with Lucifer; bouncing off of the Tiefling’s superior scale mail.

Lucifer glared down at the thief, who dazedly hadn’t quite realised he’d bounced off of a Tiefling’s bosom. The former sighed, knowing she’d have to care for her mail again before the day was out; it took constant degreasing and oiling to keep each of the scales pristine. But it was super pretty, so the effort was justified in the end.[3]

The thief soon scarpered when he caught the look on Lucifer’s face. (It promised pain to whomever tried to dirty her mail next.)

The Blacksmith snarled at the retreating thief, only just realising he had an (admittedly smitten) audience. “Can I help you?”

Shithëad stepped forwards. “We’re here about the quest?”

The Blacksmith did not look impressed. The five ladies shared meaningful glances. Through a few blinks, raised eyebrows, eyebrow _wiggles_ , and more importantly smirks, it was decided that Alto would try their hand at persuading the Blacksmith into giving them the job.

The Half-Elf, with her rapier and dagger situated on her belt, had been lugging her third piece of equipment around with her. It was far too bulky to attach to her backpack. Alto plonked herself unceremoniously on the ground, ignoring how many of her party wrinkled their noses about her sitting in the dirty street, and situated the Lute Harp she carried between her legs. She winked to the Blacksmith and began to strum a tune – humming along and throwing in a few Elven ditties for good measure.

Those in the party who could understand the foreign lyrics had to cover their mouths and smother their laughter, but the Blacksmith seemed oblivious to it all. In fact, he was willing to be oblivious in the presence of such a… such an exquisite maiden.

(The four others in this party could unanimously agree that Alto did not look her finest at that very moment, let alone ‘maidenly,’ but they were willing to let it go as the Blacksmith’s brusque conduct caved.)

“Get up,” Dany hissed to the Half-Elf while the Blacksmith stood off in his own little world.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to play a lute harp without a proper harness or a stool? No. So I’ll sit on the floor all I like,” Alto huffed.[4]

As it stood (quite literally) Alto had no choice in the matter. The Blacksmith was inviting them all into his forge to speak further about his quest. A selection of his wares was displayed along the walls, though nothing spectacular stood out from his own work. A few pieces here and there which had rather obviously been collaborated on with the help of a superior craftsmen, outshone the other wares.

The glint of the blade from one short sword drew Artemis in, but like her cousin, she too had limited Gold. Truthfully, on the party’s Cleric, Lucifer, could survive off their funds alone.

“I can’t in good conscience allow someone as genteel as yourself to partake in such a dangerous quest. My supplies – precious raw materials I’d ordered from the next town over, were supposed to arrive today. There is no telling what you might encounter on the roads.”

He looked at her – Alto – with misted eyes. She’d successfully turned him to the party’s favour, but now the Blacksmith was being more than a little clingy.

(“Just fuck already!” Artemis bellowed, cupping her hands around her mouth to make the shout echo.

Alto whipped around agitatedly; she’d heard horror stories about picking up lovers at the first town from other adventures and was trying her best not to make that very mistake. “I’m going to get an STD!!”)[5]

The Blacksmith shook his head. “No, I will not allow you to go.”

At this, Alto took offence. She could handle herself – she was a strong independent Half-Elf and she was probably way older than this measly Blacksmith. ‘Genteel’ her arse.

“Quick,” Dany hissed, noting everyone’s unease. “Whip out your lute again.”

Alto was about to do just that (when in doubt, seduce, eh?) but a cry from the backroom made her pause.

“Darling, did you get rid of that awful thief yet?” A woman questioned. (‘Is she hot?’ the group thought collectively, but no, it was not to be. No wonder the Blacksmith had hypothetically thrown himself at their Bard…)

“Yes… Dah- _urgh_ \- darling.”

The woman was something to the Blacksmith then. A wife perhaps? She most likely wouldn’t take kindly to her significant other cheating, even if said cheating was instigated by the one he’d unwittingly fallen for. The five novice adventurers rounded on him like hounds to the hunt – and the Blacksmith was the unlucky fox.

If there was anything these ladies hated more than people disrespecting others – such as Shithëad’s encounter in the tavern – then it was cheaters. How someone could knowingly and willingly do that to their partner was beyond them, and they would not stand for it.

The Blacksmith began to sweat nervously, seeing how Alto’s smile soon became strained and how others in the party groped for their weapons.

“Perhaps,” Alto hedged, “We can meet an agreement. I mean, you wouldn’t want ‘Darling’ finding out about what you’ve done, would you?”

(Behind Alto, Lucifer raised her war hammer and slammed the hammer head into one open palm in the same manner of a harassed housewife slapping a rolling pin into their awaiting hand. If gentle persuasion couldn’t work, then maybe facial reconstruction would?)

Gulping, the Blacksmith agreed; “Fine, but not a word to her. What will keep you quiet? A lifetime discount on my wears or one free weapon each?”

Seeing as most of the Blacksmith’s wears were mediocre at best, the group would not be constantly be returning to restock – therefore a lifetime discount would not be necessary. They each agreed to take one free weapon and wash their hands of the cheater. After all, if they could not trust him to remain faithful to his partner, how could they trust him for a continued discount?

Artemis chose the short sword that had drawn her in earlier. Inscribed upon its blade was the saying ‘Yondo melmë wen.’ Upon reading this, Artemis’s nose scrunched up in distaste. Love was free for all, and not just between two genders; she’d have to rectify that saying somehow, either by scratching it out or by using the blade ironically on the road.[6]

Alto picked for herself a long bow, and Dany a quarterstaff. Shithëad, the most basically equipped member of the party treated herself to a pair of daggers. Lucifer, who so far was the most armed out of their group with superior weapons, chose a set of finely whittled arrows which Alto could use for her longbow. The Half-Elf profusely thanked her Tiefling companion.

“My supplies were supposed to be here this morning from the next town over. By foot it takes seven and a half days, and by carriage just three-“

“So they’re not late yet?” Artemis questioned.

“What?” The Blacksmith gaped.

“They’re not late yet, because it takes three and-a-bit days to get here, and it’s only just been that. There could have been a technical issue with the carriage or one of the horses, so why would you put a quest out already?”

The Blacksmith dropped his head into his hands, but Artemis wasn’t done yet: “Does time have no relative meaning in this place? I mean, if you were on day four, then your stuff would be over half a day late and I could understand that, but putting out a search warrant for things that are a little late is pretty pathetic, no?”

“Look- _look,_ I really don’t care okay,” said the Blacksmith, throwing his best puppy-dog eyes at Alto (who wasn’t impressed.) “I just need these supplies here, soon, because otherwise I can’t produce anything.”

“I should hope not,” Dany muttered, certainly not referring to the iron war hammers on display.

With their free weapons in tow, the ladies departed. They slunk past Captain Rose, trying their best to not to look at the hideously hairy mole on her chin, and settled into seven and a half days of travel.

Eight hours into their journey, however, Artemis stilled. As the member of the party with the keenest senses, she had been leading point at the front of the group. Shithëad noticed the disturbance too; a chill shooting down her back. The others, fooling around and chatting amongst themselves, were oblivious to the ominous feeling.

Before, there had been a gentle breeze flitting across the plane the group walked through. The sparse vegetation outside of the lush forest the ladies had passed hardly rustled in the wind. No birds sang, and small animals had scarpered. Something was definitely wrong.

“Hush,” Artemis commanded. “There’s something watching us.”[7]

The others, now alerted to a potential threat, drew their weapons. Out of the woods burst forth a writhing mass of shadows. From the gathering darkness, three humanoid figures protruded, each consisting of shadowy tendrils and skeletal features.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I shared a cave with a Nazgul?” Asked Lucifer.

“Nazgull? Naz _don’t_ ,” Alto quipped back, her fear rising. Nobody laughed. “No? Okay then.”

“Well I mean, they’re nice… beings, once you get past all of the screeching,” Lucifer continued.

Artemis coughed. “Guys, we’ve got a bigger problem on our hands here.”

In their distraction, the shadows had crept closer. Soon they would encase the novice adventurers entirely. Their only option would be to press and try and open up a fair amount of distance from the shadows. Their unknown size and numbers – despite the three prominent, humanoid forms – made them a more serious threat than this bunch of newbs could possibly handle.

“Wait a sec,” cried Dany, rooting through her tomb of spells. “How about this?”

Above the Dragonborn’s head appeared a small bulb of bright, white, light. The encroaching shadows flinched back in horror. “I can keep this up for about an hour, so we better get moving.”

Remaining vigilant all the while, the five ladies pressed onwards. Their road was clear, and they seemed to be leaving the shadows behind until…

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Artemis groaned. “There’s a tree in the way.”

“Are we talking a piddly tree here that we can hop right over?” Alto called; she had been keeping an eye out at the rear of the party.

“Does _that_ look like a ‘piddly tree’ to you?!” Artemis shrieked.

On reflection, the huge tree trunk blocking their only marked pathway was not something the party could simply hop right over. The trunk itself would mean a hefty climb for everyone should they wish to no divert from the path – and considering their shadowy pursuers, losing the path could be the marker for their doom. No, it was best to stay where they were and help everyone over the tree trunk before continuing.

Predictably, they sent Artemis up first, shortly followed by Shithëad, Alto, and then Dany. Lucifer, who had the heaviest weaponry and armour in the class made it halfway up the trunk before she slipped back down to the ground.

By now, the light Dany had cast in a sixty-foot radius around her had transferred itself from a flat radius to vertical, meaning that poor Lucifer – stuck on the ground – had little to safety-light encasing her. The shadows, naturally, took that opportunity to swamp around the thin barrier separating them from the Tiefling; pressing audaciously against the light whenever they could.

“I’m going to die,” Lucifer whispered in horror. The shadow beside her simply waved.

Artemis shared a glance with her companions who had made it up the side of the tree. “I’ll go down and help her. Shithëad – you can’t see as well as all of us in the dark, so stay up here in the light with Dany. Alto?”

“I’m gon’ snipe ‘em when I get the chance.”

“Please don’t ever speak like that in my presence,” Artemis muttered, before slipping down the side of the tree trunk. [8]

Between them, the five took their chance at engaging the three larger shadows. One fell rather quickly, which was a surprise, and it invigorated the ladies. They engaged the second shadow on a high, not realising that perhaps they had slain the weakest of the three first.

Artemis and Lucifer took many hits, with Alto trying her best to distract the shadows from her perch. She let a few arrows fly at the second shadow engaging with Artemis, struck it in the forehead, and watched with satisfaction as it exploded into a heap of blackened wisps.

The third remaining shadow, enraged at the loss of two of its own, decided that there was nothing going to stop it from devouring these novice adventurers. With a grim, skeletal smile, it stepped within the light barrier.

“Quickly, get up here,” Shithëad yelled. Both she and Dany stretched out their arms while the Tiefling and Wood Elf scrambled up the bark – only just making it. Too bad the same could not be said of the shadow; it, too, pulled itself to the top of the trunk.

Artemis, with her arms heavy from climbing and wielding her sword, began to pant. Did she have enough strength left within her to fight this foe?

Lucifer was panicking over a different matter. “Why is it me?!” She cried at the remaining shadow-figure as it lunged towards her.

Sparks danced across her palm as she leapt to the side (being careful not to fall off the tree trunk) and took her own swing at the shadow with a fiery fist. Both she and the shadow missed their marks, but the latter swung round instantly to lunge at the Cleric again. Lucifer, unsure as to what spell she could use in an instant or if she could use her war hammer in time, shuddered back in horror.

A subtle _twang_ could be heard, and a faint, fast-paced _phwip_ followed. The shadow-figure, shot in the back of the head by Alto, disintegrated.

“I’m so glad you gave me these,” Alto chirped, slinging her bow over her back.

Lucifer collapsed to trunk’s bark in relief.

“Well,” Shithëad announced with a disbelieving giggle. “If this is what only eight hours of travel is going to be like, I’d hate to think what’s going to happen over the whole week.”

The four other ladies present groaned.  

* * *

 

[1] Roll D10 for Hotness!

[2] In our imaginations, Novice Town Blacksmith was the incarnation of Thorin-Richard Armitage. We’d rolled D10 and got 9. Previously, we’d rolled D10 for Rose, the Captain of the Guard (10 being Katie McGrath and 1 being… unspeakable…) but we rolled a 2   ( ; _ ; ) Artemis wasn’t too chuffed.

[3] [Lucifer’s Mail](https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/465177214/chainmail-scale-mail-top-with-shoulder?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=scale%20mail&ref=sr_gallery-1-9)

[4] I’m referencing Alto’s Lute off of a [Lute Harp](http://www.harpguitars.net/history/org_images/Harp-lutes/harp-lute-v&a-miner-b.jpg), not the guitar-based Lute. Usually they have a harness which hugs the instrument against the torso and crosses around the back for support, or they can be balanced against the knees and lap if sat. They’re heavier than you might think, so trying to hold the instrument and play one-handed is not a good idea.

[5] Oh God… Our GM warned us about this. No hook-ups with randos just yet.

[6] Our GM gave us the Latin for ‘Boys Love Girls’ and well… No thanks? So, seeing as I can’t remember/can’t be bothered to find the Latin, I translated it into Quenya using [Parf Edhellon](https://www.elfdict.com/). I’m not an Elvish Scholar, so please pull me up on my butchered Elven phrasing if it’s wrong.

[7] Dramatic Violin Music

[8] If I’m honest, I was casually dying at this point of the session, so I’m a little fuzzy on the details…


End file.
